Seireitei's Son
by The Kouga Lucius Connection
Summary: Hitsugaya and Hinamori's battle loving son is assigned to eleventh division under Kenpachi. With a kid that's grown up calling the captains and vice captains aunt and uncle, how can they expect him to behave? HitsuHina, IchiRuk. Rating may go up.
1. Transfer

**I just had this idea because I wanted to write about all the cute little people in the Gigai 13, like Hitsugaya and Momo and Yachiru, grown up. So here it is; let me know if it should continue. I'm planning on hooking Hitsugaya's son up with Ichigo and Rukia's daughter, just for your info.**

**Enjoy.**

"Excuse me, Kenpachi-taishou, but you have a message from Yamamoto-taishou."

It was a hot day in Seireitei and Captain Zaraki Kenpachi wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, glancing up at the messenger with his one unconvered eye. The mammoth of a man was currently sitting behind his desk, a rare occurance to be sure, working away at a mound of paper work he'd neglected for at least three months. If it hadn't been for a rather threateningly letter from Unohana concerning his division's medical files, he reckoned the stack would still be sitting quietly on his desk gaining height by the day. It was far too hot to train, so the blood-thirsty captain had begrudgingly decided to begin his arduous task.

The messenger took a small step inside the open room, handing the captain a small white scroll before bowing and retreating to his fourth division headquarters. Kenpachi cracked his neck boredly as he glanced at the message, wondering if it was worth opening. No doubt, it would simply be Yamamoto demanding his paperwork under pain of death. Knowing it was a great offense to ignore the great captain's messages, however, Kenpachi reluctantly tore open the letter.

After scanning it briefly, the large man gave a snort, though he couldn't stop the grin from capturing his lips. "Why is it always my division?" he murmured jokingly aloud to himself, shrugging off his captain's jacket onto the back of his chair. He then proceeded to pull down his open chested haori until it was hanging at his waist; he couldn't think with the heat nagging at him like that.

Finally, after a moment of contemplation, Kenpachi decided that far worse things could've arrive in Yamamoto's letter. If Yamamoto was that determined to see Toshiro Hitsugaya's son put in the eleventh division, then Kenpachi would oblige him. After all, he'd known the boy since infancy and had actually taken a hand in training him. Besides all that, Kenpachi could distinctly remember once diapering his new recruit. This obviously provided with several opportunities to blackmail and it didn't get much better than that.

Hitsugaya Toshiro sighed and leaned back against his chair, scowling as another warm wind blew in from the West. He couldn't stand hot weather, a fact which perhaps had something to do with his propensity for ice attacks, and wanted nothing more than to sink himself into a rather cold lake. In a rare moment of distraction, the tenth division captain glanced at the wall near the door, smiling as his eyes landed on a few successive marks scaling up the doorframe. The shortest one was labeled "133 cm, age 150." Hitsugaya's sea green eyes followed the marks as they progressed upwards, age 160, age 170, age 180, all the way up to age 220. At age 220, Hitsugaya had stood tall at 208 centimeters, roughly 6 feet one inches. Another smile stole across his lips; that was forty years ago. A lot had changed in those 110 years.

He was not only taller, but older looking in the face; he looked to be at least 25 in human years, he suspected, something which would make his family look slightly strange to humans. His startling white hair had grown longer and he now kept the excess in a thin ponytail at the nape of his neck, decorated with braids and beads. This last affect was Hinamori's idea, "for decoration," she'd said. Hitsugaya felt a warmth drift over at him when he thought of his beloved wife, Momo Hinamori.

They'd married nearly sixty years prior and had a son approximately nine months after their wedding, a fact which never ceased to amuse Abarai Renji. "Eager, weren't we?" he always joked with Hitsugaya, who'd learned to ignore the vice-captain's teasing.

Their son, Rinjoukan, was a fine specimen of a shinigami, already well on his way to mastering the Bankai under his father's careful direction. He wasn't quite there yet and, because of his attention to his zanpakutoh, had fallen behind on his hand to hand combat skills. Hitsugaya once suggested putting their quest for the bakai on hold to catch him up to speed in his Hakuda, but Rinjoukan stoutly refused; he was determined to surpass his father in strength and would waist no time in mastering the Bankai of his zanpakutoh, Sakebichi.

Rinjoukan, called Joukan, was a blend of his parents in several respects. He, like his father, had grown to a rather impressive height, lingering somewhere around 6 feet. His hair was his father's blinding white, but silken and controlled like his mothers. He wore it in a simple samurai knot with a few stray fringe pieces poking out in front. He complained about his hair, telling his father that no one respected "snow-heads," but in truth he loved the attention. Joukan's eyes were a deep soulful brown, like his mother's, but fierce and biting like his father's. He tended to be passionate and enflamed by everything, like Hinamori, but analytical and cold when it came to dealing with dire situations, like his father. Joukan loved a good battle and had the same love of carnage as Zaraki Kenpachi, though Hitsugaya hated to admit that. Perhaps it was by allowing his son such close proximity to Abarai Renji that Joukan picked this up, but he would never really know. Whatever the case, Joukan got in more fights that was completely necessary.

Hitsugaya was truly lost in his thoughts and only glanced up when someone knocked politely on the door frame. Momo Hinamori smiled wryly, brown hair long and dancing around her in the warm summer wind. "Hard at work, Hitsugaya-taishou?"

By Hitsugaya's request, Hinamori wore her hair loose these days, discarding her bun cloth for a freer style. She hadn't aged a day in Hitsugaya's eyes, though he reckoned he was slightly biased by his love for her. She was beautiful in everything she did, graceful, kind, caring; it was a wonder she could even muster up the hatred to battle, but Hitsugaya knew well enough that, in a fight, Hinamori was not to be taken lightly.

She glided into the room and gave a light sigh, taking a soft seat on Hitsugaya's lap as he watched her with a smile. "Of course I'm hard at work," he protested with mock indignance. "I absolutely adore paperwork, you know that."

"Oh, I do," Hinamori laughed, a beautiful, trickling sound that Hitsugaya would never tire of.

He absentmindedly rested his arms around her small waist, gazing adoringly up at her with a lazy smile on his lips. He remembered a time in his life when he would've found this position compromising and inappropriate, but Hinamori had changed him for the better. He was no longer that up-tight captain, eager for the approval of his elders. He was now just Toshiro Hitsugaya, proud captain, husband, and father.

"Have you seen Joukan today?" he asked, idly running his thumbs along her sides as he held her firmly in place with his strong hands.

Hinamori covered his hands with her own, replying almost annoyedly, "No, that would be asking far too much of our dear son to drop by and see his poor mother. He's off looking for a fight, I imagine."

It was Hitsugaya's turn to chuckle. "That's my Joukan. I still think he got that from Abarai, but I'd never compliment the bastard by saying it out loud."

"Someone say my name?"

Both Hinamori and Hitsugaya turned towards the doorway, which was currently occupied by a grinning Abarai Renji, arms crossed in a cool fashion as he leaned against the doorframe. His crimson red hair had grown longer over the century and ended somewhere near his hips, still tamed in a high ponytail which contrasted brilliantly with the black ink tribal tattoos covering his chest and neck, even a portion of his forehead. Renji truly hadn't aged a day and could've been mistaken for his 200 year old self, if not for his long hair. He was still garrulous and impulsive, two things which Hitsugaya both loved and hated about the man. All things aside, he still considered Renji to be one of his dearest friends.

"We were talking about how you poisoned our son with your bloodlust," Hitsugaya replied cheekily, returning Renji's grin with one of his own.

"Did I?" Renji asked, feigning innocence. "I think yer givin' me too much credit, Snowball. Joukan probably got that all by hisself."

"Not my little Joukan-chan," Hinamori disagreed with an impish smile. "He was a good little boy until you came along and ruined his innocence."

This only provoked a laugh from Renji; he knew both the husband and wife were kidding in good nature. "Hah, but yer forgettin' that I was there since the day he was born. I didn't come along and ruin nothin'. It was my plan from the beginnin'."

Hitsugaya sighed and glanced absently down at his right thumb, which was still rubbing methodically up and down Hinamori's side. "That seems like forever ago, doesn't it? When Joukan was a child?"

"He still is a child," Renji pointed out. "He's only, what, 59? Almost 60? He's just a brat still."

"Shiro-chan knows that," Hinamori replied with a loving smile, glancing down at her husband. "He's just bitter that Joukan managed to nearly outgrow him in a fourth of the time it even took Toshiro to reach 200 centimeters."

Hitsugaya scowled, looking away from his wife and trying to ignore the chuckling issuing from Renji's grinning mouth. "He already looks older too, maybe only two or three years younger than little Hitsugaya to humans. How'd that happen?"

"Luck of the draw," entered another voice as a familiar face joined Renji in the doorway.

Rinjoukan's grin was almost a direct copy of Renji's as he stood there, for the boy idolized Abarai Renji in a way which rivaled that of Rikichi of the sixth division. Joukan, however, admired the sixth division vice-captain for more reasons than simple appeal and battle-genius. He knew Renji the man and respected him for his pride and even for his arrogance. The two were so alike, Hitsugaya often teased Hinamori that perhaps she hadn't been altogether faithful during their marriage. This would only make Hinamori laugh and she would reply, "With hair like that? There should be no doubt in your mind, Shiro-chan."

Joukan's fingertips were dancing distractedly on the handle of his zanpakutoh, as they always seemed to be; as usual, he was itching for a fight. Renji grabbed the boy in a headlock, knuckles ruthlessly baring down upon Joukan's snow white hair as the boy grunted in discomfort. "Finally showin' yer face, huh?" Renji jibed.

But Joukan turned an began aiming swift punches at Renji's gut, laughing all the while. "Cut it out, Uncle Renji, before I knock you out."

"Oh yeah? Knock _me _out? Never, ya little punk," came Renji's typical arrogant reply, and the two continued roughhousing until Hinamori raised her voice above the noise.

"I've been looking for you, Joukan," she said commandingly, using her motherly-tone to grab her son's attention.

Glancing up from his play fight with Renji, the boy dropped his fists and grinned at his "uncle," reaching up his hands to re-tie his destroyed samurai knot. "Oh yeah? What for, mom?"

"To talk about your reassignment," Hinamori said seriously, grabbing Joukan's attention indefinitely as he fiddled with his hair.

"Where are they sending me?" the boy asked, allowing his gaze to drift from his mother to his father, even to Renji as he stood there; Joukan's breath was already growing faint. He'd been awaiting his reassignment from third division for months now for he'd never been fond of Kira's aristocratic and stately demeanor. There was barely any sparring in third division and absolutely no drunken brawling, which Joukan found to be the best part about division life. Besides all this, Kira had filed an official complaint to Yamamato several months prior when Joukan had sent four of his fellow third division shinigami to the hospital division with bruises and cuts from a bar fight. Joukan proclaimed his innocence whenever asked, though his eye always held a glint of mischief and Renji was almost certain the boy had started the fight just to feel that adrenaline rush he loved. Of course, Renjis would never say this, especially in front of Joukan's parents. Even though they were perfectly aware of the fact, that is.

"Eleventh division," Hinamori replied wryly, obviously unsurprised and mildly displeased. "The perfect place to reign in your aggressive nature and decrease your number of weekly brawls."

"Eleventh division?!" Joukan burst excitedly, eyes the size of plates and smile wider than the sky. "No way, eleventh division? Under Kenpachi? Yes! Hell yes!" In a fit of joy, Joukan began dancing excitedly around in a frighteningly good immitation of Ikkaku's "lucky" dance, constantly chanting, "Eleventh division, eleventh division, eleventh division!"

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes at his son's behavior, calling loudly, "I don't want to hear anymore about bar fighting period, do you understand me Rinjoukan?"

Joukan only proceeded to pump his fist enthusiastically into the air once more, replying brightly, "Right, no starting bar fights, sure dad!"

Hitsugaya lowered his snow white eyebrows, opening his mouth to correct his son's interpretation of his scold, when Joukan exclaimed, "I'm gonna go check in with Kenpachi! Hell, this is so awesome!"

Still chuckling at the boys' excitement, Renji corrected him gently, "It's Kenpachi-taishou to you, kid. Don't forget, he may've been one a yer babysitters back in the day, but he's yer captain now."

Sobering, Joukan gave a curt nod and composed himself, taking in a deep breath as his hand strayed once more to the hilt of Sakebichi. He was obviuosly nervously excited about his reassignment, though Hitsugaya had the feeling that his son wasn't quite prepared for the eleventh division lifestyle. Though Hitsugaya didn't pretend to know an abnormal amount about Zaraki's barracks, he'd heard from a rather irritated Unohana-taishou that they bathed and groomed themselves with disgusting irregularity, enjoyed fighting in random outbursts, and ate like a pack of ferocious wild dogs.

In Hitsugaya's view, Joukan had been pampered by his lifestyle growing up, the son of two division captains. He called the other captains "ojisan" and "obasan" for uncle and aunt, on a first name basis with almost everyone in the Gaitei 13. Frankly, Hitsugaya wasn't sure if his son knew where his professional and personal relationships within the walls of Seireitei started and ended. _Kenpachi will teach him all about that, I'm sure, _Hitsugaya thought wryly to himself, sea green eyes dull as he thought about the impending future.

Even Renji, who doted on the boy, knew this wouldn't be the simplest of transitions. He'd already commented on Kenpachi's superiority as a captain, but all three adults present knew that Joukan would have to experience rank first hand to truly understand it. He'd been third in command in the third division and was basically given free reign, as Kira wasn't quite sure how to handle him. Zaraki Kenpachi would put an indefinite stop to that.

"Alright," Hinamori said with a smile when Joukan had calmed. "You can go check in with Kenpachi-taishou."

"Hai," Joukan said seriously, knowing this was a transition that would probably make or break his career as a shinigami. In any case, he was excited to spend more time with Kenpachi, who he'd always admired for his love of battle and incredibly spiritual energy. He'd been taught at a young age that Kenpachi's eye patch was not for show and, in truth, consisted of tiny monsters which ate away at the man's energy to control it to a tolerable level. Joukan always begged Kenpachi to take it off, but the man never would, for obvious reasons. _Maybe I'll get to see what he's like without the eyepatch on, _Joukan thought deviously. _This is gonna be so great!_

_"_

"Bye mom, dad, ojisan!" Joukan called as he turned and began jogging towards the eleventh division office, which was almost next door in a sense.

Joukan's presence still lingered after he left, causing Renji to smile as he watched the white haired boy disappearing around the corner. "This is gonna be interesting," he commented, resuming his lazy position, leaned against the doorframe.

"Indeed," Hitsugaya replied dryly. "Maybe someone will finally be able to keep Rinjoukan in line."

Joukan turned the corner, arriving at a wing which he knew well to be that of eleventh division, the battlehungry vagrants of Gotei 13. Never in his wildest dreams had Joukan expected Yamamoto to place him in division eleven, especially after his escapades with the bar fight. Perhaps, instead of trying to quell Joukan's tendencies, the captain was trying to put him a friendlier environment. Whatever the reason, Joukan could barely remember being this excited.

As he came to Kenpachi's office, Joukan composed himself for the umpteenth time and knocked politely on the door frame. A familiar gravelly voice called, "Yeah, come in."

Joukan entered the room to see Kenpachi sitting in his office chair, haori legs spread and chest bare as he continued scribbling away at a piece of paper, never even looking up from his work. It was a rare thing to see Kenpachi sitting in his office chair, nevertheless doing paperwork, but from the looks of the sizeable form stack, he was already quite far behind.

When he'd finally finished the form, which he'd consequently forgotten the contents off, Kenpachi turned to look at his newcomer, a lazily grinning Hitsugaya Rinjoukan.

"Ah, my new recruit," Kenpachi said with a hint of humor, crossing his muscular cannon arms across his chest with a mocking air. "You didn't request this, did ya?"

"Nope, just lucky, Zenpachi-taishou," Joukan replied with a classic devil-may-care grin. Despite their casual setting, Joukan sank to one knee and bowed his head to Kenpachi, who watched this display with mild amusement, but greater pride.

"Yeah, whatever. Well, if you can find Yachiru, she's runnin' around somewhere, she'll get you a bed and whatever else ya need," Zenpachi said boredly, rubbing the back of his massive head and causing the numerous bells in his wayward spikes to jingle.

"Hai, taishou," Joukan replied, turning to leave until he seemed to remember something important. "Um, taishou?" Kenpachi, who'd returned to his tiring work almost immediately, glanced up, glad for a distraction. Seeing that he had the man's attention, Joukan continued, "Where do you think I sit in the ranks here?"

Kenpachi leaned back in his chair, scratching his stubbled chin as he seemed to consider this seriously for several seconds. After a while, during which Joukan looked tense enough to burst, Kenpachi replied, "Eh, maybe sixth or seventh. We'll have to have a re-ranking session to see fer sure, though. You ain't that good at hakuda, right?"

This brought a blush to Joukan's cheeks and he didn't answer, a fact which caused Kenpachi to laugh gruffly. "Hah, I thought not. Well, if you can improve your hakuda in the next week, ya might have a chance, kid."

"Yeah, alright," Joukan answered easily, rubbing his own chin thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed in the classic Hitsugaya Rinjoukan thinking pose and Kenpachi raised his eyebrows; that look was never a good sign, in his experience.

"Get outta here," Kenpachi finally said dismissively, returning to his paperwork with an irritating sense of obligation gnawing at his head.

Joukan left the room with a rather irritated glint in his eye; he didn't understand the important of hakuda when he could simply use Sakibichi to slice his opponents apart. What good was hand to hand when he never had his hands free anyway? But he knew the rules about opening up one's zanpakutoh within Seireitei, (he'd studied them all quite closley looking for loop holes in his younger years,) and remembered the hand the hand competitions he'd been forced to endure to be ranked as third vice-captain within the third division. He'd been lucky to achieve third, in his opinion; his hakuda was truly awful. He could manage a solid punch and that was about it.

Near the entrance to the eleventh division barracks, Joukan began peeling his eyes for a head of familiar pink hair when he was unceremoniously bowled over, thrown to the ground by a quickly moving shinigami. He blinked, staring up at his assailant before his face collapsed in a grin. "Hey, I was just looking for you, obasan," the boy said pleasantly.

Yachiru had grown in the past 110 years and now looked to be roughly the age of a 28 year old human. She was thin and spry, as she was naturally a bouncy individual, and her pink hair hadn't dulled any since her younger years. It was still a bright bubblegum pink, though it flipped out somwhere near her mid back now; she'd grown it out because it was "fun to play with," in her words. Kenpachi was having a rather difficult time dealing with prospective suitors, who were relentless in their pursual of the pretty young vice captain. Yachiru seemed oblivious to their come-ons, however, and only laughed whenever they said flirtatious things to her. It only worsened Kenpachi's frequent headaches.

Smiling widely, Yachiru pulled Joukan to his feet and embraced him comically, latching on to him like a babboon with her legs wrapped around his waist. "Little Jo-chan! You never come to see your little obasan anymore!"

Joukan grinned, holding on to his "aunt" with practiced skill. Yachiru had the tendency to throw herself at anyone and everyone, making the entire Gigai rather alert and on guard, should Yachiru fly out of no where with her arms outstretched. Even the cold sixth division captain, Kuchiki Byakuya had grown used to her friendly physical ventures and could catch her on command.

"Well, you'll be seein' a lot of me. I was just transfered to eleventh division," Joukan reported with a hint of pride in his voice.

Yachiru let out a gasp, chocolate brown eyes enlarging considerably as she screeched, "Transfered?! Here?! Jo-chan!"

As Yachiru enveloped him in yet another neck breaking hug, Joukan rolled his eyes with a smile. "Yep, for real. Kenpachi-taishou sent me down here to get a bed from you."

"You can just share my bed like you used to when you were little!" Yachiru exclaimed, clasping her hands together excitedly as she unlatched herself from Joukan's torso.

The boy grew rather red in his handsome face, rubbing the back of his snow white neck with an embarassed frown. "Er, obasan, I think I'll take my chances with my own bed."

Despite her age, Yachiru had the tendency to be rather naive and didn't understand the implications of sharing a bed. Frowning slightly, she crossed her arms in a pout and said huffily, "Fine, ignore your obasan, just go out in the world without me! We'll find you a bed, big Mr. Jo-chan, then we'll get you some big boy clothes with the eleventh division label. Hmph! Just cause your grownup, you think your better than your little obasan!"

Rolling his eyes, Joukan followed Yachiru into the eleventh division barracks and immediately widened his eyes, taking a tentative sniff of the area. It smelled like sweat, old sock, and dirty clothes. Joukan was motionless for a moment before a smirk crept over his features, lighting his brown eyes with an eery delight. He was going to like eleventh division indeed. Now all he had to do was start a bar fight and his initiation would be complete.

**One hell of a long chapter, I know, but I write like that pretty much. Review to let me know if this is worth continuing. I thrive on your feedback, like a blood sucking plant or something...except nicer and less fond of drinking blood.**

**KOLU**


	2. Practice

**Well, I got lot's of positive feedback; thanks to everyone and especially lightningstrxu, who pointed out some name errors (zenpachi, gigai) and those are fixed now. Also to helloshoe, who pointed out some errors in my heights and that taishou should be taicho. I'm gonna upload the edited chapter after this. So here it is, the second chapter.**

Kurosaki Ichigo growled as an increasingly warm air whirled about him, taunting his startling orange hair near his eyes. Tiring quickly of the irritation, he made as though to swat away his paper work in attempts to make it the scapegoat, and only suceeded in losing to the wind, which beat him to it by blowing the paper to the ground. Ichigo sighed, rubbing at his face; it was just a boring hell of a day.

"Ne, temper, temper," Renji murmured as he entered the room to find paper scattered about the floor, surrounding a red faced Ichigo.

"Shut up," Ichigo murmured, standing to his feet and stretching his stiff limbs. "This is so tedious, damnit."

"You know you like it way deep down," Renji replied with his typical grin, leaning against the ninth division office doorframe just as he had in tenth division. "You could never go back to the living world even if you tried."

Ichigo opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it; he knew his friend was quite right in this respect. Nothing could compare to his life in soul society; he had his wife, his daughter, and a life of, not only comfort, but endless action. As ninth division vice captain under the admirable Hisagi Shuuhei, Ichigo was happier than he could ever remember being. Life was at peace...if not for his seemingly endless paperwork.

"Yeah, yeah," was all he mumbled in response to Renji's taunting. "What're you doing here?"

"I just came by to tell ya that Joukan got transfered to eleventh division," Renji replied.

Ichigo was silent for a moment before turning his full attention to the redheaded vice captain, cocking his eyebrow in a rather strange way. "Say what? Eleventh division? No kidding. Why eleventh?"

Renji shrugged and adopted a disdainful expression. "Do I look like Yamamoto-taicho to you? I have no idea why he put 'im there, but he did. Joukan sure loves to fight, anyways. He's already got common ground."

"Yeah, I guess," the orange haired fukutaicho said quietly. "You know how Zaraki is, though. He's pretty..." the man paused, searching for the right word, before he decided on, "scary."

This only provoked a laugh from Renji, who responded airily, "Eh, you know Joukan, he's a crazy little bastard. You shoulda seen him when he got the news, he freaked out in Hitsugaya's office. Zaraki was always one of his favorite uncles, you know that. Kami knows why, but he was."

"Probably because Zaraki stood up for Joukan when he was little. You remember that? He punched out that crazy kid who's always trying to challenge him to a fight, what's his name? Kakushigoto or somethin' long like that. But Hinamori looked ready to beat his ass right there and Zaraki was all, 'kids'll be kids, and he won, right?' Joukan started hangin' out with him right after that," Ichigo remembered, unable to keep a smile from his face as he recalled the incident.

As Ichigo told the story, Renji gradually began to remember the occurance some years ago and he grinned wolfishly. "Heh, yeah, I remember that. I'd hang out with him too, saved Joukan from one helluva beating. Hinamori can really bring down the house when she's mad."

"I know," Ichigo replied in a pained voice. He too had been subject to Hinamori's wrath once or twice and they weren't exactly pleasant experiences. In fact, he didn't make it a habit to remember them. Ever.

Fanning himself desperately, Renji shrugged off his haori and allowed it to fall to his waist where his obi kept it fastened. The redheaded swordsman ducked inside the room and sank down against the wall, rubbing sweat from his forehead. "It's a scorcher. Maybe I can get Hitsugaya to attack me with his ice stuff, ya think?"

Ichigo snorted. "Great idea, you go try that and I'll give your eulogy."

There was a comfortable silence between the two friends, who had known each other for a fair amount of years now. At around the time Hitusgaya and Hinamori were preparing for their wedding those many years ago, Ichigo had made the decision to give up his life in the living world and relocate to Soul Society where he could be a more integral part of the world's defense. Though the transition had been somewhat painful, having to leave his friends and family, he knew becoming a Seireitei shinigami would have benefits as well. Since his dearest friends could see his shinigami form, communicating wouldn't be as great of a trial as it might've been otherwise. Besides that, he could always use a gigai. Fifteen years after Joukan was born, Ichigo and Rukia were married on a bright spring day. Another twelve years into the future, they gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, aptly named Chikara. Even Yamamoto-taicho had admitted what great spiritual energy the child emitted and expected great things from her. Needless to say, Ichigo and Rukia were quite proud.

This remembrance brought another fact to his mind and Ichigo said suddenly, "Chikara graduates from the academy in three weeks."

Renji glanced up menially. "Yeah? S'bout time. Seems like she's been in there forever."

"The regular ten years," Ichigo said with a shrug. "Top of her class and everything. She can't wait to get in here."

"Just like her old man, gotta be right in the middle of everything," Renji joked, earning a one-fingered salute from a red faced Ichigo.

After another short silence, Ichigo murmured, "I've got my doubts about how she'll do in the Gotei 13."

Renji sobered as he caught the serious tone in Ichigo's voice. "What about? She's a genius, right?"

"And everyone tells her that constantly. She's golden in the academy, but we both know it's a lot different out here. You know that especially," Ichigo pointed out reasonably. Renji had told many tales of his time in the academy, including the eye-opening incident when he, Kira and Hinamori had battled their first real hollow alongside Hisagi Shuuhei.

Renji scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, yeah man, but she's also a lot better than I ever was. Hell, from what I hear, she's got spiritual energy that'd make Zaraki look like a little kid on the playground. She ain't gonna have the problems you or I did."

"No, not the problems we had. She's gonna have her own," Ichigo said grimly. "She's more than just a little conceited; she's been told she's a genius her whole life and she hasn't been proved wrong yet. I'm afraid she won't understand subordination when she finally gets into a division."

This provoked a sigh from Renji, who rested his elbows on his knees and glanced tiredly up at the ceiling. "Yeah, well her captain'll put her in her place. We all had that happen at least once, so whatever. Well, unless her captain's Kira...he couldn't handle Joukan to save his life. That kid practically ran third division."

"Thats' just Joukan," Ichigo chuckled. "Besides, divisions are already trying to draft her."

"Huh," Renji grunted, briefly remembering his times in the academy when Shuuhei was receiving requests while still in school. "Who's askin' her?"

"Seventh, twelfth and thirteenth I think. She's not quite sure what to do, but she's enjoying the attention for now," Ichigo snorted, shaking his head at his daughters unshakable confidence.

"Outta those, I'd go with thirteenth," Renji said casually. "Ukitake's a real good guy."

"He is," Ichigo agreed, placing his hands behind his head as he leaned back in the chair. "But he's already got a fixed fukutaicho and that's where she's wavering; she wants to be fukutaicho right off, even though I told her that's a load of crap. Besides that, Kamamura was her favorite captain growing up; she really loved the big guy." Truly, Chikara had clung to the wolf-life captain as a child, finding his power and calm demeanor impressive and inspiring. She's called him "Kama-oji," considering him an uncle; the wolf-man seemed to enjoy the child's company, strangely enough.

"Well, in any case, she better not go to twelfth division; that bastard Kurotsuchi gives me the fuckin' creeps," Renji spat out distastefully; the scientist always left him with the chills.

"Can't argue," Ichigo said, scrunching up his nose. "He's a freak."

"Wherever she goes, she's gonna butt heads with Joukan, you can bet; that rivalry isn't about to die," the sixth division vice-captain pointed out smartly.

Ichigo rolled his eyes; since Chikara was old enough to battle, she and Joukan had always been at arms against each other. Joukan would start the fight, calling her young and flat-chested, and this would invoke Chikara's wrath until she called him lazy and stupid. The two would then draw their swords and fight, invariably until Chikara was disarmed. Though she could hold her own for a good hour, the talent from her parents was, alone, not enough to counter Joukan's impressive sword skills, acquired through years of devout practice. The two never got along and, coincidentally, tried to stay their own separate ways. If and when both were active in the Gotei 13, avoiding each other would become incredibly difficult.

"I dunno, I'm kinda looking forward to that," Ichigo said with a broad grin. "Watching them fight is pretty damn interesting."

"You're a terrible father, you know that?" Renji replied wryly.

"Eh, I know. That's why I have Rukia; she's the best mom anyone could wish for," Ichigo replied off handedly, smirking fondly as he thought about his beloved wife.

Renji couldn't help but smile; he had to admit, loud-mouthed and arrogant Ichigo was the perfect gentlemen and husband to the adopted Kuchiki and the tattooed vice captain couldn't have matched his long time best friend better himself. They were truly a great couple and Renji was proud of both of their accomplishments in the Gotei 13. But he'd never say that out loud; too mushy.

"Yeah, I reckon she is," was all Renji said. The two men shared a smile but groaned when another hot wind blew in; it looked like the weather wasn't going to let up in honor of a friendly conversation after all.

Joukan sighed as he sat on the edge of his new eleventh division bed, dressed in his new eleventh division hakama. He'd redressed himself in the proper attire, but his haori remained untouched on the bed; he dearly loved the cool feeling of what little air their was against his bare chest. It seemed too hot to put on _any _clothes, though a naked riot in Seireitei would probably cause alarm.

"Hey kid, what're you doin' in here?"

Glancing up, glad for a distraction from the ominous donning of his haori, Joukan grinned as his twinkling brown eyes met those of Madarame Ikkaku, an old friend since his youth. Despite their age difference, Ikkaku had always taken time to play and associate with the young Hitsugaya, who likewise enjoyed the company of the bald eleventh division third-seat. They shared a similar arrogant and fight-loving attitude, which they seemed to bond over.

"Hey Ikkaku. I was transfered into eleventh division," Joukan said proudly, beaming at the very fact.

Ikkaku grinned and slapped hands eagerly with his friend. "Alright! Yumichika's gonna bust a butt, you know how he is."

Joukan frowned, replying sourly, "How could I forget?"

"'Oh Jo-chan, you're so handsome! Such beautiful cheek bones, perfect skin! The essence of beauty!' Haha," Ikkaku mocked, laughing as Joukan grew rather red in the face as he always did when faced with Yumichika's fawning.

"Shut up," he mumbled, blushing.

"Yeah, yeah," Ikkaku laughed. "Has captain told you where ya sit yet?"

At this, Joukan shook his head. "He said we'll have a reranking session next week. So you better watch out man, I'm lookin for yer spot."

Ikkaku could tell by his friend's grin that, while this was playful banter now, he wouldn't hesitate to fight for the third seat come battle time. Frankly, Ikkaku wouldn't have it any other way; he believed in fairness when fighting for rank. In turn, he grinned right back. "Sure, kid. I've been waiting for a challenge. No one's bested me in hakuda yet."

Though unnoticeable to Ikkaku, Joukan flinched. "Hakuda? I thought you were a sword guy."

"Well, I am, but I'm damn good at hakuda. In the reranking session, the pre-ranked officers get to pick the fight style before the fight. You know, hakuda or sword. Don't you know how a reranking session works?" Ikakku asked, clearly puzzled.

Joukan could only manage a small shake of his head, dreading what he was about to hear, and Ikkaku obligingly continued to explain. "The one who's trying to rank himself is challenged by the preranked officers, starting from the lowest one. The preranked officer gets to pick the mode of fighting, hakuda or sword. Then they see who wins and, if the challenger wins, he moves on to the next highest ranked guy and it starts all over again," Ikkaku explained.

After musing briefly over this, Joukan murmured, "So what do most guys pick? As their mode of fighting?"

Ikkaku thought about this before he finally shrugged. "It all depends, but normally what their best at. Unless the challenger is obviously good at something, then they'll pick the other thing. Speaking of, I bet everyone who you challenge is gonna pick hakuda."

Joukan gulped, nervously toying with the end of his graceful white samurai knot. "Erm, why is that?"

"Because you rock so hard at sword fighting," Ikkaku said as though it were obvious. "Everyone knows you kick ass at that. Why challenge you to it?"

"Yeah, well I'm good at just about any type of fighting, so they can kiss my ass," Joukan said suddenly, trying to boost his own confidence with arrogant words. His cocky smile was indeed heartbreaking and, had any girls been sitting in the room, they might've swooned and fallen right over; here was Hitsugaya Joukan, top naked on a bed boasting about his fighting skills with hid typical handsome smile. It was just too beautiful a sight.

But Ikkaku grinned heartily, slapping Joukan on the back. "Heh, that's the spirit. Now you got me excited, I wanna fight you sooner than a week!"

Joukan just kept his grin plastered on, feeling a cold sweat break out on his brow, consequently one not of the heat. "Damn right you do." Standing and stretching his limbs habitually, the young Hitsugaya finally grabbed his haori and tugged it on, enjoying the feel of his new eleventh division tag against his chest. Even the stifling haori was better than sitting there boasting of nonexistent skills to his powerful friend. "I'm gotta go, but I'll catch up with you at dinner, yeah?"

"Sure kid," Ikkaku said brightly, slapping hands with Joukan as he turned to leave. "Later."

As soon as Joukan left the bunk room, he clapped his hands to his face and let out a whimpering sigh; what was he thinking? He was no where near besting Ikkaku at hakuda and, frankly, anyone in eleventh division. He would have to get impressive at hand fighting and _fast. _

"Damnit, Joukan, think! Who would be a good person to ask about hakuda? You're surrounded by the best fighters in the universe, just pick somebody! Damnit!"

Joukan's rant was cut short, as was his pacing, when a deep voice called out, "Talkin' to yerself? That ain't good, Hitsugaya. Not good at all."

Quicker than the eye could see, Joukan withdrew his katana, which he kept on his person next to Sakebichi at all times, and held it slantwise behind his back, parrying the attack of a familiar assailant. Joukan's bicep flexed brilliantly as he stood there holding off the blow with a startling absence of nervousness. His face was still thoughtful and he was scratching his chin with his free hand, murmuing to himself, "Renji? No, he's more of a sword guy too. I haven't seen Shuuhei around today, think he's at a meeting..."

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you!"

Rolling his brown eyes irritatedly, Joukan gave an expert flick of his wrist and turned his body simultaneously, hearing the metallic clang of a sword as it clashed with another, disarming his opponent instantly. The young Hitsugaya cut an impressive figure as he stood there, warm winds whipping his white ponytail to the side as he looked, unfazed, up at his opponent.

"I'm busy, Shigo, go bother somebody else," Joukan said boredly as he met eyes with those of Kakushigoto Fin, fourth ranked in thirteenth division.

Kakushigoto, Shigo to his friends, was tall at six foot six inches, and muscular to match. His skin was a light tan from days of toil, making his numerous tattoos a smoky asphalt rather than abbrasive black; from shoulder to wrist on both sides, Shigo was completely painted with elaborate pictures which told the story of his past. Joukan often called him "Scar-face" because of the three claw marks on his right cheek, which were consequently not tattoos but actual battle wounds, earned by facing three Huge Hollows many years ago. Shigo was host to a mane of midnight black hair, though an incident he wouldn't discuss had left him with a single white streak which ran down the middle of his samurai knot. The most striking thing about Shigo was his eyes, which were a brilliant, simmering red, the color of pooling blood. He wore a sleeveless black undershirt, which fit like a second skin, and kept his haori arms tied around his waist at his obi rather than actually wearing them. Joukan suspected that the boy was just trying to show off his tattoos.

"_Bother _someone else?! You make it sound like I'm fuckin' playin' around, Hitsugaya!" Shigo growled in his deep voice, which held a distinct edge to it; there was attitude dripping from his very tone.

"I know you're not; I'd be the one playing around if I really decided to fight you," Joukan replied, sheathing his zanpakutoh and glancing over at Shigo's, which was lying some twenty feet away in the yard. "Go get your katana and practice with Ikkaku, I bet he's itching for a fight." 

Shigo blinked, obviously surprised by this situation. "I don't care about Madarame; the question is why ain't _you _itchin' fer a fight? You always wanna fight me! And I ain't stoppin' till I've beat you, we go over this every fuckin' day."

And this was true. Ever since their academy days, Joukan and Shigo fought daily in attempts to see who was stronger. Invariably, Joukan had ended up the winner on graduation day. For the next fifteen or twenty years, Shigo carried on the daily ritual of attacking Joukan and carrying on a duel to see if the standings had changed, which they never did. His determination to beat Joukan was incredibly strong and their rivalry was infamous; dodging around a Joukan-Shigo battle was just another part of daily life to those in Seireitei.

Strangely enough, despite their numerous battles and harsh words, Joukan and Shigo were best friends at heart. They'd known each other for the greater part of their lives and encountered the many obstacles of shinigami-dom in tandem. When they weren't fighting, they often ate meals together and discussed whatever came to mind as friends did, albeit with quite a bit of argument. Though they might never say it out loud, Joukan and Shigo would fight for each other in a heartbeat and had on several occassions. Most notably in bar fights.

"I know we do, Shigo, but I'm trying to think my way out of something and I've got a headache," Joukan said irritatedly, reaching up to rub his pounding temples. The stress of acknowledging his own shortcomings in hakuda was taking an effect on his body.

Shigo frowned and crossed his strong arms, murmuring crassly, "What's go you worked over?"

Sighing, Joukan leaned back against the railing on the edge of the walkway, glancing down at his hands. "They transfered me to eleventh division."

"What?! Man, are you kidding?! I'd give a kidney fer that, what's your problem?" Shigo exploded, throwing his arms akimbo as he stared incredulously down at Joukan, who looked decidedly depressed.

"I gotta be reranked, that's what the problems is Scarface," Joukan replied sourly.

"So what, you'll probably just be third again; you like third anyway," Shigo reminded him, quirking an eyebrow over his crimson eye. "I don't see the problem."

Joukan snorted and crossed his own arms, blowing a stray piece of snow white hair away from his eyes. "You wouldn't. Third division was one thing, they're all pansies, but eleventh division is a helluva lot different. I have to fight Yumichika and Ikkaku, not to mention that fourth seater who's roughly the size of twelve Jidanbous. And most of them are going to pick hakuda when it comes down to our reranking fight."

When Joukan mentioned "hakuda," Shigo gave a visible wince and his frown deepened. "Oh man, you suck at hakuda."

"Thanks, dude."

"Well, it ain't fer a while, right? Just practice," Shigo reasoned, shrugging his muscular shoulders.

Joukan pushed off the railing and began pacing, gesturing wildly with his hands as he spoke. "You make it sound so simple; I'm _so _bad at hakuda my mom put some sort of demon spell on my sword so that I can summon it back to my hand if I get disarmed. Not even my parents believe in me on this one."

"Yer parents are freakin' good, though. And yer mom's always been overprotective, Hitsugaya." When it didn't seem as though Joukan were listening, Shigo said forecefully, "Look, all you gotta do is go find Soi Fong-taicho and get her to help ya. She's the best there is, dontcha think? Well, besides Nanashi-fukutaicho, but you know how she hates sparring..."

Joukan blinked rapidly and turned his gaze up to meet Shigo's, looking almost blank with excitement. "Hey...you're right. You're right! I can just ask Soi Fong! I'll fight you after dinner, Shigo, just cause you said that." The Hitsugaya heir looked almost ready to explode with glee as he fingered his sword hilt, turning to search for the second division captain.

And without so much as a goodbye, Joukan disappeared down the walkway, jogging at a quick speed towards the second division office. Shigo shook his head and sighed, rubbing boredly at the back of his neck. As he went to retrieve his practice katana, he murmured to himself, "Hell, maybe it's good I didn't fight 'im. It's way too fuckin' hot."

"Oi, Soi Fong-obasan!"

Soi Fong glanced up from her paperwork, which she found a necessary duty though entirely odious, and met eyes with a rather excited Hitsugaya Rinjoukan, who was standing in the doorway to her office grinning madly. A few strands of white hair were falling before his excited brown eyes and, in that moment, the relation to both his parents was painfully obvious. As were the many hours he'd spent in the company of Abarai Renji.

"Joukan, what are you doing here?" Soi Fong asked boredly, returning to her paperwork as though the boy weren't even present.

"Can't I stop by to see my favorite aunt?"

Soi Fong snorted. "Matsumoto's your favorite aunt."

At a loss for words, Joukan decided to take a bold step inside the office and he knelt down beside Soi Fong, who preferred to sit cross legged on the floor while tending to her paperwork. "Okay...well, I'll level with you, obasan. I need hakuda practice and, frankly, hakuda training, for the eleventh division reranking session. I wanted to know if you could help me out."

Based on the way their conversation had progressed thus far, Joukan thought he was fairly sure what her answer would be. To his surprise, Soi Fong finished signing a document and stood, stretching her lithe limbs in a rythmic fashion. "I will."

Joukan blinked, looking up at the impressive woman, whose dark eyes were unreadable. "Um, you will?"

"Yes," was all Soi Fong said before exiting the room.

Joukan scurried to his feet and followed at her heels, asking confusedly, "Where are you going?"

"To the dojo; where else were you planning on training?"

"Er, right, to the dojo!"

Truthfully, Joukan hadn'tconnected with Soi Fong on any truly deep levels since he was five. She was rather cold, in his opinion, and much too attached to duty, two things which Joukan was definitely not. In any case, he normally made it his business to keep a safe distance away from Soi Fong...except in instances like this. When there was no other option. They'd been closer in his youth, but as he aged into what humans might consider a teenager, they'd grown apart; she didn't want to deal with his "arrogant attitude," as she'd put it once.

As the two made their way to the dojo, they passed a group of 6th division girls, who glanced up and giggled when Joukan walked by. One of them waved and said boldly, "Hey, Joukan-senpai!"

Joukan smiled stiffly and replied, "Good afternoon, ladies."

This remark set off an entirely new batch of tittering and, once they'd passed, Soi Fong glanced up at him. "You seemed uncomfortable."

Joukan shrugged. "I don't have time for girls, I'm trying to achieve bankai and rank myself in the eleventh division. Anything else is useless to me."

For the first time in a long while, Joukan watched a sly smile creep over Soi Fong's face. "Spoken like your father's son."

The dojo was situated in between fifth and sixth division headquarters in a common area and the two entered the building, stepping around a few groups of socializing shinigami. Several of them called out to Joukan and the second division members respectfully greeted Soi Fong, who only nodded curtly. Joukan made it a habit of calling those who called out to him by name and he did so then, waving indulgently.

Once they had entered the dojo, Soi Fong said wryly, "And just then, you acted like your mother's son. The perfect blend, aren't you?"

"I guess," Joukan laughed nervously, rubbing at the back of his head.

"Alright then," Soi Fong said in a business like tone as she popped her knuckles ominously. "Attack me."

Joukan raised his snow white eyebrows curiously and cocked his head to the side. "What?"

"I said attack me," Soi Fong repeated, shaking her head. "Focus, Joukan, that's your first problem."

Though bristling at her comment, Joukan readied himself and raised his palms in the correct position, widening his stance ever so slightly. In that single moment before he moved, Joukan's entire demeanor changed into what many considered his "attack mode." During fights, Joukan's care-free spirit seemed to disappear only to be replaced by a blood-thirsty, battle-hungry beast, one which could only be satiated by the blood of his opponent. His brown eyes always turned a threatening red, fueled by the release of his spirit energy, a fact which never ceased to alarm his friends. It was disconcerting to see Joukan in such a way.

Joukan seemed to disappear as he executed a perfect flash step, taught to him by the famous Kuchiki Byakuya, and appeared behind Soi Fong, who seemed completely unimpressed. He made as though to strike her, though she simply lashed out with her left arm, catching him in his right side with incredible force. He grunted as he tumbled tail over scut into the wall, grumbling dejectedly to himself.

Soi Fong only called out, "Come again."

Obligingly, Joukan flipped to his feet and performed several flash steps in quick sucession, appearing to be both to the left and right of Soi Fong. Having trained with Yoruichi many times before, Soi Fong was able to block the real Joukan's kick easily with her left arm. From here, the two issued several fast hand and foot motions, kicing and punching with speed and accuracy. They were graceful, almost like dancers in a deadly tango, though this state didn't last long. Joukan found himself thwarted once more as Soi Fong launched an attack on his right side, which was, by this time, aching from the numerous hits it frequently received.

This attack sent the boy flying into the wall, though he remained standing, and he gave a growl; Joukan was easily irritated in battle.

"Keep a calm head," Soi Fong reminded him, sensing the famous Rinjoukan anger rising from the depths. "That's your number one problem. Hakuda is about striking with purity and serenity, neither of which you have right now. Focus yourself."

By this time, several shinigami had gathered in the lobby area outside of the dojo, watching the two opponents as they attacked each other once again. One of the younger shinigami said in awe, "Wow, who's that man? He's holding his own against Soi Fong-taicho!"

A nearby boy snorted and glanced down at the little girl, replying, "Who is that, did you say? That's only Hitsugaya Rinjoukan, son of the great Hitsugaya Toshiro and Minamori Momo. He's third ranked in third division."

"Not anymore," came a familiar deep voice as Shigo appeared behind the boy, crimson eyes focusing in on Joukan as he blocked one of Soi Fong's attempted attacks to his right side, earning an encouraging comment from the captain. "He's eleventh division now. He's gonna be reranked next week."

There were several murmurs of, "Shigo-senpai," which caused Shigo to roll his eyes. "You ain't in the academy anymore, ya little brats. Move along, anyways; yer actin' creepy, standin' out here watchin' them. I said get on!"

Intimidated by the tall, muscular and heavily tattooed swordsman, the young shinigami scurried off towards the common green, whispering to one another about Joukan and Shigo, legends in their own right. Shigo, however, didn't take his own advice and remained outside the dojo, watching Joukan fight with Soi Fong. Joukan was getting struck repeatedly on his right side, which he was now favoring, and Shigo shook his head slowly.

"What do you make of this fight?"

Shigo jumped at the deep voice, nearly jumping out of his skin. He turned to find himself standing level with the chest of the great, fur covered captain of the seventh division, Komamura Sajin. His yellow eyes were watching the fight before him analytically as he stood with his brawny arms crossed, wolfen face serious yet calm.

"Komamura-taicho," Shigo greeted once he'd gotten over the shock. "I didn't sense you coming."

"I don't make it a habit of advertising my presence everywhere I go," Komamura replied with a small smile. "And how is thirteenth division treating you, Shigo?"

"Fine, I guess," Shigo replied menially. "Except that they won't let me rerank."

Komamura glanced down at the boy, whose scarred face was distorted in annoyance. "Rerank over whom?"

"Kiyone. I could beat her easily," came Shigo's confident reply.

Komamura's deep chuckle somehow calmed Shigo, who was becoming irritated just thinking about the situation. "Well I'm sure the matter will resolve itself when you understand your own limitations."

"Taicho?" Shigo asked confusedly, black eyebrows cocked questioningly.

But Komamura didn't answer him. He merely stepped forward into the dojo, only having to wait a second before Soi Fong sent Joukan flying in a mess of black and white into the wall for the umpteenth time. Joukan was struggling to his feet when Komamura called out, "Weak on your right sight as always, Joukan."

At Komamura's comment, Joukan grinned and shook his face free of stray white hairs, popping his sore shoulders as he stood to his feet. "I know, ojisan, but I've already got a solution to that. I'll fight harder until my weakness doesn't matter anymore."

The animal-man shook his head, saying disdainfully, "A typical Abarai Renji approach, Joukan. And very typical of you, as well; I've said it before and I'll say it again: you may have great talent, but at this rate you'll die in battle before you ever cultivate it. You need to be more cautious."

Joukan frowned sourly and spat out a bit of blood from the side of his mouth. "You sound like my mom, ojisan. I do whatever it takes in battle."

"An admirable idea," Komamura admitted, "but you go about it in the wrong way."

"I don't see anything wrong with a little scrapping," Joukan replied with a beastly grin; not unlike Renji, his teeth were slightly sharper than they should've been and gave him a ghastly demonic appearance.

Komamura smiled despite himself. "Alright, you little rascal. Soi Fon, why don't you analyze from the sideline for a moment and you might better see his problem. Or, rather, problems."

Soi Fon nodded; she'd always liked Komamura because of his dedication to Yamamoto. "A good idea, Komamura-taicho."

As Komamura took Soi Fon's place in the center of the mat, he noticed a something strange; Joukan's eyes were turning that crimson color again. Komamura briefly wondered in the boy knew what he looked like when he fought, though the answer was probably "no." Joukan was hardly aware of his abilities, nonetheless he technique.

The fox man lowered into a straight backed position as Joukan gave a starting nod and rocketed forward, using his flash step to gain distance in the blink of an eye. Komamura could see from the tensing of Joukan's shoulder that he was preparing to deliver a blow with his right fist. Komamura blocked accordingly and the hit came in contact with his arm, which softened the blow to the equivilant of a pin prick. No sooner had Joukan done this, he appeared on Komamura's other side and launched out with a well executed kick, which he'd always had a knack for. It caught Komamura in the shoulder, but he simply smiled toothily and clapped out with his left arm, catching Joukan by surprise.

The boy's eyes widened as he found himself flying backwards, victim to his right side once more. He smacked against the dojo wall and fell in a heap of black and white to the floor, groaning; his right side. Why was it always his right?

"Ah," Soi Fon murmured. "I know what you were saying, Komamura."

"As do I," said a voice from the doorway.

Soi Fon and Komamura glanced up, nodding and giving brief smiles to Jushiro Ukitake, the elegant, white haired captain of the thirteenth division. Upon seeing Joukan gathering himself to his feet, Ukitake laughed and stepped inside, muffling a brief cough into his arm; he still wasn't quite well after all these years. "Practicing, Yuki-chan?"

Since Joukan's birth, Ukitake had taken to calling him "Yuki," meaning snow; in the captain's own words, "Whitey is taken, so snow it is!" Joukan went to Ukitake with problems and questions in his youth and even in his adult life, knowing he could expect straight and true answers from the man. Ukitake saw a side of Joukan that most were not blessed enough to see, the thoughtful young man who possessed an intellect far beyond that of almost anyone he'd met. It was a shame he was so arrogant; no one could see his brilliance.

"Ah, Ukitake-ojisan, joining the 'Joukan reeks at hakuda' party?" the boy joked, brushing himself off as he stood.

This earned another chuckle from Ukitake. "I wouldn't miss a party like that. See? I've crawled out of my house just to come."

"You better not be pushing yourself, ojisan, or you're next," Joukan said in a light but threatening voice, cracking his knuckles as he prepared to face Komamura again.

Ukitake smiled fondly at the boy's protective nature, which was similiar to his father's, and walked calmly to stand beside Soi Fon. "Is there a particular reason for this training?"

The two combatants began their battle as Soi Fon turned to speak with Ukitake, knowing how the fight would end. "He was transfered to eleventh division, as you know. And they rerank in a week, during which he'll need to have a good solid base in hakuda, which he obviously doesnt-" The woman was cut off as Joukan hit the wall for the umpteenth time. She sighed. "...have."

"I heard that," Joukan muttered as he wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his clenched fist.

Soifon snorted mildly, crossing her arms in a critical fashion. "You were supposed to."

Joukan was about to retort when yelling and shouting interrupted his thoughts. The three captains followed Joukan's eyes as he glanced out the door, noticing Shigo for the first time, while simultaneously wondering what could be causing such a racket. He could barely make out shouts of, "Out of the way, prisoner coming through!" and he narrowed his gaze, exchanging glances with Shigo, who consequently met his eyes. Before the captains could say another word, Joukan was running out the dojo door.

**Kind of a cliffhanger, which I pretty much never do, but thought I'd try it. If there were any errors in this one let me know. I'm taking some artistic liberties, such as insinuating that they carry around plain katanas along with their zanpakutohs. If you have problems with that, let me know, but I probably won't change it. Thanks to my reviewers!**

**KOLU**


	3. Responsibility

**Since its been so long, a flashback:**

_Joukan was about to retort when yelling and shouting interrupted his thoughts. The three captains followed Joukan's eyes as he glanced out the door, noticing Shigo for the first time, while simultaneously wondering what could be causing such a racket. He could barely make out shouts of, "Out of the way, prisoner coming through!" and he narrowed his gaze, exchanging glances with Shigo, who consequently met his eyes. Before the captains could say another word, Joukan was running out the dojo door..._

Two guards, who were struggling to restrain what appeared to be a prisoner, grunted and cursed as their charge lashed out against their hold. He had dark, spiky hair, the color of coal, and seemed to be a bit thin for his own good; he looked rather underfed, though not scrawny. When he glanced up, trying to gain leverage over his captors, Joukan could see two red upside-down triangles below each of his eyes, as well as a long red line running across his forehead, but it was the eyes themselves that startled the young shinigami. They were crimson red, the color of freshly spilled blood. They made this man look positively wild.

"What's going on?" Joukan asked one of the guards, who had suceeded him in school some years behind him.

The blue eyes guard glanced up as he gritted his teeth, trying to restrain the prisoner. "He attacked a group of 13th division patrollers, Hitsugaya-senpai."

Joukan's brown eyes were trained on the prisoner, who was dealt a ruthless punch to the jaw. This did away with his struggling for the time being and he rested, breathing laboriously as the soldiers regained their hold on him; he glanced up at Joukan with those startling crimson eyes of his, pieces of dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He looked so alive, even in his defeat, that Joukan couldn't help but feel some sort of kinship with this man he hardly knew.

Shigo seemed not to notice Joukan's interest and shrugged his brawney tattooed shoulders, asking the guards, "Why'd he do that?"

The leftmost soldier looked up at Shigo, replying tiredly, "The 13th division patrol had been sent out to 78th district to investigate a possible rebel group springing up. One of the shinigami was young and inexperiences and became harsh when dealing with a shop keeper, who was suspected to be involved; he got rough with him and this made this kid mad. He came out of no where, knocked out a couple patrollers before he was apprehended."

"Moshitomo-san wasn't bloody involved! Get your information right before you pick on an innocent man!" the prisoner barked, beginning to struggle once more against captivity. His muscles bulged and his eyes roved crazily as he attempted to break free, but to no avail.

By this time, Joukan had noticed that each of the man's arms was covered in strage designs which resembled a written language, as though his very skin was being used as the pages in a novel. Shigo, who seemed to notice at the same time, murmured, "Nice ink."

Soi Fon, Komamura and Ukitake stood quietly behind the two younger shinigami, watching the proceedings silently. Ukitake was trying to think of something to say, but his words failed him; he was embarrassed by the actions of his rash soldier while on duty. Getting rough with a civilian while in the middle of an investigation? Ukitake sighed; he'd thought that all his men were better trained than that. But if this man had attacked a group of shinigami, he had broken the laws of Soul Society.

"Where are you taking him?" Joukan asked, speaking for the first time in a while.

"Holding cell," one of the guards replied offhandedly, punching the prisoner in the back of his dark head as he moved sharply once more.

Joukan was known for being rash, impulsive and generally stupid when it came to important decisions. He didn't take his time and lacked the patience of Hinamori; most thought it was just a character flaw. Today was no different for Joukan, who was about to make another one of his impulsive decisions. This one had reasons behind it, however; Joukan could feel the man's spirit energy rolling off him in waves, for one. This alone seemed a good enough reason for the Gotei 13 to induct him or something, but Joukan supposed his offenses couldn't be overlooked either way. Another one of the reasons influencing his recent decision was dictated by the prisoner's desperate eyes; he wanted so badly to get away from captivity and was obviously a man who loved to be free. Joukan could respect that too.

But mostly, it was just because Joukan liked to defy society.

"I'll take him from here."

The guards, Shigo, the three captains and the prisoner turned to Joukan, who had just casually spoken these words. Soi Fon looked insulted, Komamura slightly irritated and Ukitake amused. Shigo seemed completely confused while the guards looked likewise flabbergasted. The prisoner's look, however, was one in a million; his mouth was only slightly agape, blood dripping from its corner, as he stared at Joukan with wide crimson eyes. Was this man...saving him? It would be the first hand of help he'd been offered since he'd arrived in Soul Society, if not for the shopkeeper Moshitomo's. Was this man, who had such a formidable aura and reiatsu, helping him indeed?

"H-Hitsugaya-senpai?" one of the guard's stuttered.

Looking unimpressed by everyone's obvious surprise, Joukan repeated sternly, "I'll be responsible for him, release him to me."

Soi Fon opened her mouth to protest, but was quickly cut off by the arrival of someone even higher ranked than she.

"What's the meaning of this, Hitsugaya Joukan?"

Joukan froze in place and felt a shiver of discomfort run down his spine; he recognized that discontent old voice anywhere. His suspicions were confirmed as he turned to the right where the intimidating figure of Yamamoto was approaching, long white beard nearly sweeping the floor as he glared at Joukan through his squinting eyes. Even though he was obviously surpressing most of his spirit energy, the old man oozed power and it took everything Joukan had not to wince. Now he'd done it.

But even in front of Yamamoto, Joukan wouldn't stutter or seem afraid. He would fight for this man either way. "He's got impressive spirit energy, Yamamoto-sou-taicho, and I would be responsible for him here. Please, I beseech you."

Shigo gave his friend a tight lipped stare out of the corner of his eye, warning him to go no further, but Joukan ignored him. Yamamoto stared unfazingly at the white haired man before asking levelly, "Why would you want this?"

For a moment, Joukan seemed not to know how to answer. Finally, he said with a hint of desperation, "Well, everyone deserves a second chance, right? And he doesn't seem like such a bad guy, his intentions were good in the first place. That little punk from 13th division should never had done that and this guy was just sticking up for his friend. I respect guys like him."

Komamura and Ukitake exchanged glances; it was rare that Joukan got this serious about something other than fighting, but he certainly seemed to have conviction in this case. His motives really were true. The dark haired prisoner was looking at Joukan almost adoringly as Yamamoto deliberated. The old shinigami glanced at the prisoner, eyes seeming to narrow even further if it was possible; finally, he turned his gaze back to Joukan.

"He is your responsibility, Joukan. Now, you are responsible for not only your own actions but his as well. While you are right about his spiritual energy, you will find that teaching another and developing their abilities is not simple like you believe. Perhaps you will finally learn to respect the teachers you so insulted in the academy with your insolence. He will be placed in eleventh division alongside you."

"You're putting him in eleventh division? But he's not even trained, sou-taicho," Joukan said confusedly, surprised by such a generous offer from the commander.

At this, Yamamoto simply replied, "When he makes a mistake in battle or patrol, you will bear the consequences, remember Joukan? Since you didn't see fit to let my orders regarding this boy stand as they were, you shall do as I say now. Understood?"

"Hai, Yamamoto sou-taicho," Joukan replied respectfully, dropping to one knee; he knew this was no time for his cheekiness, however much the old man's words about insolence had angered him. It wasn't Joukan's fault that the academy staff was boring as all hell.

At a nod from Yamamoto, the guards released their hold on the boy, who struggled to stand straight, sore from the numerous beatings he'd received on the journey from Rukongai to Seireitei. After a moment, he walked calmly to stand beside Joukan, who had yet to discontinue his bow. Yamamoto spared Joukan one last look before turning on his heels and exiting the room, obviously finding his work done. The guards gave respectful nods to the three present captains, who nodded in return, before exiting themselves, leaving the original group and the ex-prisoner behind.

Shigo muttered, "Hitsugaya, you can get up now."

Joukan sighed, releasing the tension in his body as he tried to slow his heartbeat; he thought Yamamoto was going to throw him out on the spot. When he'd first introduced the idea of becoming the prisoner's guardian, he had no idea the orders to send him to the holding cell had been directly from Yamamoto. Joukan had been incredibly lucky and he knew that. Except now he was not only struggling for his own place, but this boy's place as well. He was struggling for two.

An outstretched hand appeared before Joukan's face and he blinked, looking up at the dark haired boy. The red triangles on his cheeks seemed to grow even redder with blush as he stared down at his savior, who smiled toothily. "Thanks."

Joukan accepted the hand and found himself pulled up by an arm strong enough to rival Shigo's. Joukan scratched his head confusedly; the boy didn't look that strong, but underfed Rukongai dwellers never did. "I'm Hitsugaya Rinjoukan. My friends call me Joukan," he said amicably, continuing to grin, full fanged, at his charge.

"Kurokumo," the boy said shortly.

Shigo raised one of his eyebrows and leaned in close, staring at the boy with a critical eye; their eyes were both that unusual simmering crimson. "What, no last name?" Shigo asked rudely, giving a snort of contempt.

"No," came the other man's short reply as he wrinkled his nose; he didn't seem to care for Shigo.

"Are you from 78th district?" Joukan asked curiously. When Kurokumo nodded, Joukan replied resonably, "Well then, how about the last name Inuzuri, the name of the district? Or did you hate it too much to make it part of your name?"

Kurokumo shrugged. "Whatever you decide, Joukan-dono."

The surrounding group raised their eyes in unison, exchanging amused glanced; dono? This was the suffix reserved for lords and ladies, so Kurokumo obviously held Joukan in the highest regard.

Joukan's eyes bulged at this title and he said confusedly, "You don't have to call me that, man. Joukan is fine." The boy returned his master's level gaze before Joukan gave a sigh. "But, whatever you want to do is fine with me."

"Hai...Jo-dono," Kurokumo finally finished, trying to make the name more casual to fit Joukan's tastes.

Shigo burst out laughing, exclaiming, "That's one for the books. Jo-dono. Hah!" He slung a tattooed arm around his white haired friend's shoulders, murmuring, "Huh. Well, whatever man. I think you got yourself some kinda dimwitted nutjob, Hitsugaya."

"Have you ever heard the expression 'pot calling the kettle black?'" came Kurokumo's surprisingly disdainful reply. "Or how about 'people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones'? Then of course, there's always, 'the brainless shouldn't speak.'"

Komamura chuckled at the stunned look on Shigo's face as he stared vehemently at the dark haired boy, who's spiky hair was nearly standing straight up with indignance. The wolf man said dryly, "Well, Shigo, it looks like he's anything but dimwitted."

"Why you little punk," Shigo began, tensing his fist and taking a threatening step towards Kurokumo.

But Joukan hurriedly stepped between the two, shouting, "Enough! Shigo, cut it out, you're being a dick."

Soi Fon snorted and said gruffly, "Language, Joukan. This isn't one of your bars."

Sighing, Joukan replied tiredly, "Yeah, unfortunately. Sorry, Soi-fon-obasan. Uh, Kurokumo...mind if I call you Kuro?" When Kurokumo shook his dark head in reply, Joukan continued, "Cool. Well, Kuro, this is Soi Fon, captain of the second division, Komamura, captain of the seventh division, and Ukitake, captain of the thirteenth division. You know, the one who's guys you assaulted."

This last part was intended for jest, but Kuro gave a visible wince, bowing slightly to Ukitake. "My apologies, Ukitake-sama, if I insulted you."

Ukitake shook his head, still rather amused by this whole ordeal. "You did what you believed was right, which is more than can be said for most men."

Smiling gratefully, Kuro bowed once more before turning expectantly to Joukan, as though awaiting orders or something. Finally, Joukan turned to the three captains and said, "Arigatou Soi fon-obasan, Komamura-ojisan, Ukitake-ojisan. It looks like I'm going to have cut our practice short for today. I'm going to go get Kuro outfitted and introduce him around."

They just nodded, watching as Joukan led Kurokumo away trying to strike up a conversation with the boy, who seemed content to simply listen to Joukan talking. After a moment, Shigo said gruffly, "That's it, I'm goin' with em." With this, he hurried after Joukan and Kuro, both of whom seemed not to notice as he saddled up beside them and pushed his way into the conversation.

"And the angry green monster rears it's head," Komamura said dryly, earning a chuckle from Ukitake.

"I never thought I'd see Shigo jealous of anyone; he seemed to like himself just fine," the white haired man mused good naturedly.

Soi fon snorted. "A little too much, if you ask me."

"I'm sure they'll work it out in time," Ukitake said. "Shigo and Joukan are pretty inseparable, no matter how conceited the both of them are."

Komamura was silent for a bit before he turned to his two fellow captains, obviously preparing to say something important; Soi Fon and Ukitake quieted and watched him respectfully as he spoke. "Off the record, I wanted to ask those outside of my division what they thought of Kurosaki-fukutaicho's daughter as a prospective soldier."

Soi Fon smiled almost proudly as they brought up her favorite niece, crossing her strong arms as she replied, "Chikara demonstrates adherence to morality, leadership qualities, dedication to the art of fighting and an extraordinary sense of discipline and work ethic. When she graduates, I'm sure she'll be a great addition to whatever division she acts in."

Since Chikara's youth, she'd found solace in Soi Fon, who fought with the brilliance of one thousand men. Chikara desperately wanted to grow stronger and defend her honor, as her uncle once told her that pride can keep a dying man living. She wanted the pride to sustain her even when she had no breath left in her body, for she wanted to make a difference in the world; until she did, continuing to live was crucial. In kind, Soi Fon agreed to train the girl in hakuda and kidou, beginning from a very young age and Chikara was soon well on her way to becoming a master.

"She is, of course, all of those things," Ukitake agreed with his usual pleasant smile. "But she's also incredibly arrogant, as I'm sure Soi Fon-taichou knows."

Komamura hid a smile at this comment, which caused a slight ripple in Soi Fon's smirking expression. Of course, the female captain knew this was very true, but admitting the arrogance of her favorite charge seemed unnecessary; Komamura had asked for an opinion, after all, and Soi Fon's opinion of Chikara was very high.

"I'm seriously considering her for my division when she graduates in three weeks. I needed an outside opinion, as I said," Komamura said noncomitally. "I suppose I'll continue to think about it. I know she has a great desire to be vice captain."

Ukitake and Soi Fon both sobered; they hadn't forgotten the past year's incident. During a red alert battle some months ago, several Menos Grande and two Adjuchas had invaded Soul Society, continuing the war which continued to hold each of the worlds in its grip. Tetsuzaemon Iba led his division into battle alongside the eleventh, fifth and third divisions, preparing for a great battle. The supposed "great battle" had turned sour quickly when the Adjuchas became angry and lashed out, catching almost thirty shinigami with one swing. Iba was protecting a group of younger shinigami when one of the Adjuchas impaled him with a claw, which seemed to launch from its stomach; Iba died instantly.

Since then, Komamura had failed to appoint a new fukutaichou. He discussed the matter with Yamamoto, who agreed that waiting until the new Shinigami class graduated was a prudent idea. Then, depending on who Komamura appointed, the ranks would fill in below them.

"Right out of the academy?" Ukitake asked skeptically.

"Unorthodox, I know," Komamura said ruefully, "But if she has the skill, I don't see why we can't train her for a few months and appoint her."

"She would be quite good at it," Soi Fon agreed.

"We'll see," Komamura murmured mysteriously. "We'll see."

"Lemme get this straight, kid."

Joukan tried his best not to pale under Kenpachi's stare as he shifted in his sandals, going from one foot to the other. Beside him, Kurokumo looked almost interestedly at the huge captain, who seemed irritated to be bothered twice by Joukan in one day. Shigo was grinning like a cheshire cat in the corner, pleased with the discomfort Kuro was creating; maybe they would end up kicking him out of Seireitei. That would show the little snot

"This guy beat up some pansies from thirteenth division and they brought 'im here, where you saw him, felt bad, and offered to be his guardian? Is that what this is?"

Sighing slightly, Joukan replied steadily. "Sort of, taicho. See, I pissed off Yamamoto-sou-taicho so he let me have Kuro just to piss me off back. So now, if Kuro does something wrong, you punish me for it. I'm pretty sure that's why he wants to put Kuro in eleventh division. So, now you can punish me twice as much."

Kenpachi looked quietly at Joukan, his pin prick eyes nearly bored holes through the boy's skull, but he never squirmed. The large man cast an eye over Shigo, who was leaning, arms crossed, against a wall in the corner. "What do you think 'bout this?"

"I think its bull shit," Shigo said crassly, looking irritated by the lot of this. "You don't just make somebody a shinigami cause it fits yer fancy, know what I mean?"

"Huh," was all Kenpachi said in return, crossing his meaty arms in a rather contemplative fashion. He observed the boys before him for a moment, taking in Joukan's weary eyes, Kuro's interested stare and Shigo's somewhat evil smile before he sighed, murmuring, "Yeah, whatever. Go...get him whatever it is he's supposed to have. Whatever the old man says."

Joukan bowed low, unable to feel the oddness in his stomach as he did so; it was strange to bow to Kenpachi in such a manner, as the captain had never been one for formalities. Kuro soon followed suite and Shigo watched the two with a glower, snorting slightly as Kuro hurried to follow his master. Kenpachi soon waved them away with a dismissive hand, ignoring the grateful smile on Joukan's face.

As the group exited Kenpachi's office, leaving him to his shrinking stack of paperwork, Shigo growled, "I can't believe that just happened."

"It was pretty...unbelievable," came Joukan's dazed reply. "What do you think of the captain, Kuro?"

Kuro seemed to delierate this question for a moment before replying, "I don't think I've ever seen someone so large, excluding Komamura- taicho this afternoon, and I don't remember being so...what's the word..."

"Freaked outta yer pants?" Shigo filled in crudely, sniffing slightly as he continued staring straight ahead.

"-before," Kuro finished, allowing Shigo's phrase to find its way into his sentence. The two never met eyes and Joukan silently cursed whatever Gods there might've been; now he had officially _two _actual friends and they couldn't get along. Just when he thought his luck was turning.

**Sorry this took so long, but exams have been eating my soul, along with surgery, a 12 page paper and boy troubles. Screw boys, right? I promise there'll be more canon characters next time, I just had to establish Kuro's relationship with the boys. **

**Tell me what you think!**

**KOLU**


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